


And Bull Makes Three...

by distractionpie



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M, On Hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fostering had never been easy, but finding a school where Krem can thrive seems to be one of the most challenging hurdles Dorian has faced yet. So when Sera recommends a somewhat unorthodox establishment, he's desperate enough to try it out - and to his surprise Krem's new teacher Bull might be just what they've been looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I spent a half hour trying to think of a different title but once this one was in my head it wouldn't leave.
> 
> An extension of the teacher!Bull au I wrote for adoribull prompt sunday, if you've already read that feel free to skip ahead to chapter 2 because the first chapter is just that minus some typos.

When Dorian had signed up for the Haven County foster care programme it had been an idle decision, spurred by vague notions of being a better man than his father, and being able to pay forward some of the kindness the Alexius family had shown to him before Livia’s death and Felix’s illness. He’d figured that he’d been unlikely to get assigned anyone, given that a great number of people would have considered his status as a Tevene immigrant, a mage and a homosexual to make him practically a blockbuster movie villain in the making and certainly not someone who ought to have any sort of influence over a child. Indeed, although he was approved after his initial assessment (by a woman who looked at him in the same manner that one might a slug found in the kitchen), he’d gone over a year without any contact from them and had been considering turning the second bedroom of his apartment back into an office when he’d received a somewhat frantic phone-call at half-past five in the morning asking if he would be available for an emergency placement at such short notice. Half asleep and somewhat unprepared to deal with such a conversation so early in the morning he had agreed. An hour and a quarter later, freshly showered and appropriately dressed he’d answered the door for a harried looking social worker and a scowling child in the pinkest, frilliest dress that Dorian had ever seen.

A year later, Krem is dressed in far more fitting attire but is scowling just as fiercely.

He also sports the beginnings of a black eye.

A black eye - on a five year old!

“Kaffas!” Dorian exclaims, and he ducks down to examine Krem’s face. “What happened?” He probably shouldn’t swear in front of Krem or his teachers, it’s not the sort of thing that the fostering agency would approve of, but it’s not like many people down south know enough to Tevene to call him out on it.

“Your… ward got in a fight,” the headmistress says disdainfully.

“The sports teacher said I had to change with the girls,” Krem protests. “And then all of the others starting calling me a girl.” Despite his injury, he looks angry rather than tearful and Dorian thanks the Maker for small mercies.

Pursing his lips and drawing a deep breath, Dorian turns to the head. “I was led to believe that you understood the circumstances surrounding Krem’s paperwork.”

The woman sighed. “Yes, yes. You want her called a boy. I’m sorry, but student records can only be changed by a parent or permanent legal guardian, of which you are neither.”

Not yet he isn’t. And, Dorian reminds himself as he feels heat flare across his fingertips, if he lashes out at Krem’s teacher, he’ll find it even harder than it already was to rectify that situation.

“I am his current and only legal guardian and I see no reason why you are unable to update your records with accurate information,” Dorian snaps.

“Our information is biologically accurate,” headmistress Giselle corrects, in a prim voice that reminds him of the tutors his father tried to hire for him and has him twitching to start a fire. “And, even if it were not, it’s not your place-”

Dorian slams his hand down onto her desk. “It is entirely my place! Am I to assume that the reason I wasn’t contacted immediately about this incident was also because you disapprove of my guardianship? What if he were to have been more seriously hurt?”

“The school has sufficient policies in place,” she began and Dorian shook his head.

“No! I left him in your care less than a day and return to find that he has been harassed and assaulted-”

“There’s no need for such dramatics,” she says, in a tone that might be trying for soothing but it mostly damn annoying. “Our school’s policy on fighting is very clear, serah Pavus. We are a prestigious academy, that sort of uncouth behaviour may be tolerated in Tevinter, but here in the south we practise true Andrastian teachings. We are good people and we do not tolerate violence.”

“So will whomever hit him also be suspended?” Dorian asks. He begrudgingly steps back from her desk, but feels a vicious twist of pleasure at the scorch mark his hand has left on the polished wood. The school had come well recommended, he’d had high hopes, but it now occurs to him that those recommendations had come from southerners.

Headmistress Giselle smiles condescendingly. “School policy dictates I cannot give you the name of the other child involved. As they were only defending themselves, they have been reminded that violence is wrong and encouraged to pray for Andraste’s guidance. But as Cremisa,”

“Krem,” Dorian interjects.

“-was the instigator, and since you requested that she not participate in prayer…” headmistress Giselle pulls a face, as if not forcing the southern chant on a child too young to understand the full implications of the words was tantamount to blood magic, “…Cremisa has been issued with a suspension and will be allowed to return to classes next week. You may want to use the time to consider encouraging-”

“No,” Dorian replies. “He will not be returning to classes next week.”

“The suspension is final,” headmistress Giselle protests, “You cannot-”

“This school came highly recommended,” Dorian says. “Evidently, those recommendations were false. Krem will not be returning next week, indeed he will not be returning at all. No child of mine is going to attend a school with such a lax policy to respecting-”

“The tuition fee for her first term is non-refundable,” Mother Giselle interjects, as if money might make a damn bit of difference to Dorian’s ire. He dislikes the thought of the school having his money, but he isn’t about to put Krem through misery just to, what? Get his money’s worth?

“There isn’t money enough in the world to convince me that Krem ought to endure so much as another day at your disgrace of a school. If you’ve managed to do so much damage in a day, I dread to think what three months might bring. My-” Dorian bites back on the word son. Maker knows he’d sign an adoption agreement in a heartbeat, that’s not solely his decision to make. “Krem will be educated by people with intelligence to treat him with the respect he deserves. By all means, keep the money. I hope you choke on it,” he spits, and then, with a crackle of angry electricity, he takes Krem by the hand and leaves.

*

Several hours later, once Krem has been given an icepack for his eye and treated to pizza for dinner and, having cheered up a little, been put to bed, Dorian opens up his laptop and clicks to the page that he’d thought he was done with. Schools within the Skyhold city limits. And here he’d thought this particular chore was finally over with.

He almost sympathised now, with his father’s frustration with Dorian’s expulsions from near to every halfway decent circle in Tevinter, the process of finding a decent school was a tiresome one and enrolment even more so. The difference between Dorian and his father being that Dorian refused to accept the idea of letting Krem suffer in a school which made him miserable simply because it was convenient.

He’d initially chosen the Academy of Our Lady Victorious because it had a track record of good inspection results and outstanding student exam performance, the clear southern chantry influence had given him pause but he’d assumed that a school of that calibre would have staff who would be professional about such things.

Dorian didn’t regret saying yes the morning the social worker had called him about Krem, but he did wish he’d been warned about the headaches.

*

Two weeks, interviews at seven difference schools and an entire packet of ibuprofen later, Krem is still not attending school and Dorian has received a rather ominous phone-call from social services reminding him that if Krem went too long without being provided a proper education then they would consider it an act of negligence and Krem would be moved on and Dorian struck from the foster care listings.

“Should send him to my old school,” Sera declares when Dorian explains his dilemma to her, and it’s a sign of how low Dorian has sunk in the past two weeks that he doesn’t dismiss the suggestion as a joke. Sera is smarter than she often seems, and while Dorian expects that’s a product of innate intelligence and some interesting life experiences rather than traditional education, a school is a school and Dorian can always transfer Krem to somewhere better later, once he’d had time to actually find somewhere suitable.

“I wasn’t aware you’d been to school,” Dorian jokes instead. “Do tell?”

Sera grins. “Not much, yeah, on account of moving around too much. Didn’t do any in Denerim, and in Val Royeaux… well, anyway! Yeah, it’s one big school, right out on the edge of town, from the littlies right up to grown ones who are leaving for good, but it takes all sorts. Dwarves and dalish and there was this one weird-y guy who said he was a spirit. Still know people there, I do, and that lot wouldn’t get funny about you.”

Dorian hesitates, but he’s all out of options. “Do you know how I could contact them?”

*

At 4pm on Monday, Krem has a death-grip on Dorian’s hand. He’s not normally a clingy child, but given than his sole experience of school thus far was an unmitigated disaster Dorian supposes it’s not so surprising. The school runs an after-school programme until six pm, a mix of games and assisted study for those students whose parents can’t collect them at the end of the standard day, and they’d been invited to visit during that period in order to introduce Krem to his teacher and the new environment while things are less busy. A wide eyed receptionist had greeted them as “Sera’s friends” and led them to the classroom for the youngest children, then looked down at their hands and in a knowing tone invited them to enter whenever they were ready.

Reassuring people was never a skill Dorian had truly developed, but for Krem’s sake he tries. “Well now, Sera likes these people and you like Sera,” he says. “So how about we go in and see how well you like them?”

Krem looks sceptical but nods. He’s a brave child, with a streak of stubbornness that Dorian hopes will carry him far in life.

Although they’d been told that things would be less busy in the evening, the classroom is still loud when they enter. There are children playing catch in the centre of the room, and another group chattering enthusiastically as they colour while sitting on cushions. There’s nary a desk in sight, and it looks like no classroom Dorian has even been in before. The only adult in the room is a seven foot tall qunari man, whose broad left horn clips the lampshade hanging from the ceiling as he turns to greet them. “Hey there. I’d heard we’d got a potential new kid coming along. I’m Bull. What do you like to be called?” the man, who as much as Dorian’s mind boggles at the thought must by the teacher, says, focusing entirely on Krem. Everything Dorian had learned about qunari growing up rejects the idea of a qunari teaching small children - he knows some of what he knows comes from propaganda and could likely been discarded, but growing up the coast of the Ventosus Straits means he’d also seen his fair share of raiding parties and he knows that it’s not all lies. Krem, who has been raised in the south and never learned much of anything about Qunari, just stares up at Bull with wide eyes before finally blurting out his name.

“Krem. That’s a good strong name. I like it.”

The corners of Krem’s lips quirk up. It’s the best reaction he’s had to a teacher so far and Dorian can feel another headache coming on.

“I heard you got off to a bumpy start at your last school, buddy?” Bull asks and Krem nods.

“They were mean,” he declared and Bull nods sagely.

“Ah, that’s not good. Well, we’re not mean here, so why don’t you go say hi to the others.”

Krem glances around the room and then presses himself against Dorian’s trouser leg. Unfazed, Bull waves at a boy in a green shirt across the room who comes bounding over. “This is Krem,” Bull says, “How about you show him around the room? I bet he’d like to see the colourings corner.”

The boy grins and holds out a hand to Krem, who doesn’t take it but does shuffle slowly away from Dorian’s side. “C'mon,” the boy says, “I drew the best picture of a druffalo.” Krem glances up at Dorian, who nods encouragingly at him, and then allows himself to be led away. Hopefully this won’t all end in tears.

“So you’re Krem’s dad?” Bull confirms, turning his focus to Dorian.

Technically no, but that’s not a dispute that Dorian’s interested in getting into. As far as Bull needs to know it’s true.

“Dorian Pavus,” he introduces himself, “And you’re Bull?” Dorian can’t quite keep the disbelief from his tone.

“Technically I’m The Iron Bull, but that’s a bit of a mouthful for some of the littler kids.”

“A mouthful, yes, I’m sure you are-” Wait, what? Dorian groans, pressing a palm to his face as he realises his slip. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long week and I-”

Bull laughs and claps Dorian hard on the shoulder. “Gotta say, when Sera called you a ‘posh vint’ I was expecting someone a little different.”

Face still hot, Dorian takes a deep breath and points out that, “Sera thinks clothes without holes in them are posh.”

Bull nods. “True. She likes you well enough though, and she did the whole foster care thing as a kid so she knows her shi-stuff.”

Dorian raises his eyebrows and to his surprise Bull actually looks abashed. “Sorry,” he says, “I’m pretty good at watching my language when talking with the kids, even if I can’t always say the same for them. Guess I just forgot myself for a moment.”

Dorian nods. Once upon a time he’d have been shocked at the thought of swearing in a classroom but, well, there are far worse things. “Well thus far Krem only knows how to swear in Tevene, perhaps his classmates will be able to broaden his vocabulary.”

“Yeah, chatty kid, is he?” Bull asks, nodding in the direction Krem shuffled off. Dorian glances over and feels his jaw slacken a little. Krem, who got in a fight on his first day of school and has been silent and sullen on every school visit Dorian has taken him on since, is perched on a beanbag with one of the paper fortune tellers that all Tevene children learn how to make at some point, demonstrating its use to a huddle of enthralled five year olds. Dorian screws his eyes shut and shakes his head a little, but when he opens them nothing has changed.

“After a single day at his last school he said he never wanted to play with other children again,” Dorian confesses, “I…”

Bull nods. “Yeah, kids can take bad experiences to heart. But my lot are pretty good to each other. I figure they can work on memorising facts when they’re old, the most important thing for them at this age is learning how to be good people.”

That sounds like a lot of hippie nonsense to Dorian, who cannot remember a time growing up when greater academic achievement was not his primary goal, but Krem is laughing, a wicked little giggle that reminds Dorian painfully of a much younger Felix but lifts his heart when coming from Krem who is far too serious for a child so young. If Bull’s strange methods have this sort of result…

“How soon can he start?”


	2. Chapter 2

It takes some time for Dorian to sort out all of the necessary enrolment paperwork for the school (plus all the hassle of keeping social services in the loop) but by the middle of the month Krem’s place is secured. The alarm goes off at 7:30, and Dorian sets aside his usual rules to let Krem eat breakfast in front of the TV which manages to keep him too distracted to be nervous until they get into the car. It’s harder to keep him distracted then, but Dorian coaxes Krem into a round of the alphabet game and the traffic could have been worse.

It's 8:45 when they arrive, which Dorian hopes is the right balance between arriving before everybody else and being the last to turn up. In his adolescence Dorian's father had Dorian transfer schools several times in order to 'avoid unsavoury influences' and he still remembers with discomfort the challenges of being a mid-term new arrival - he's hoping it's less complicated for a five year old than it was for a fifteen year old, but he wants to make this as easy as he can for Krem regardless.

The classroom is busy than Dorian had predicted when they arrive, he knows there's some sort of before school breakfast programme so perhaps it's that. He can see Bull speaking with another adult and so he waits by the door, hoping for a word with the man before entering the room - Krem is shrinking into Dorian's side again and Bull had done such an excellent job of putting him at ease during their last visit.

Before Bull spots them though, another person does. Dorian recognises the boy who charges over to them as the same one whom Bull had introduced Krem during their previous visit, although his face is newly adorned with stitches. "You!" he cries, pointing to Krem, who jumps a little. "Your future teller was right!"

"It was?" Krem sounds a little lost.

The boy nodded. "It said red and you said red meant something exciting was going to happen and then last week I did a cartwheel and banged my face and got stitches - look!"

He points to a line of a dozen small stitches running through his lower lip and down to his chin. He seems happy enough with the situation but Dorian can't help wincing in sympathy for the boy's parents. Thus far beyond the incident at Krem's previous school, Dorian has managed to keep Krem from any injury more serious than the tiny scrapes and bruises that come with being young, but sooner of later he knows Krem is going to want to play sports or climb trees and Dorian won't be able to keep him wrapped in cotton wool forever. He's dreading that day, both for what it will do to his nerves and because of the knowledge that Krem's social worker still checks in once a month and Dorian suspects that she wouldn't hesitate to sweep the boy away from him if she had even the smallest of excuses.

Given how enthralled Krem looks as he examines the other boy's face that day is fast approaching.

"Good morning Krem, Dorian."

Dorian startles a little at the sound of Bull's voice. He hadn't noticed the man's approach - apparently the dread of Krem's hypothetical future injuries is enough to keep his attention from a seven foot tall qunari in a bright purple shirt.

"Morning," he says, just as Krem answers the same. Bull laughs a little.

"Well, looks like I don't have to explain what today's show and tell is about," Bull says, clapping the boy with the stitches lightly on one shoulder. "Why don't you go show Krem his peg, so he knows where to hang his coat up and change-" Bull pauses, glancing to Dorian and asks, "Did you bring him indoor shoes or is he gonna borrow some."

"There's some in his backpack," Dorian answers. He loathes the idea of borrowed shoes and he's certainly not going to subject Krem to them.

Bull nods. "Okay, you take Krem and help him get sorted out," he says to the boy, who nods and beckons for Krem to follow. Dorian's surprised at how quickly he goes.

"You okay?" Bull asks and Dorian nods, confused.

"Of course," he says. "I'm not the one starting a new school, am I?"

"Yeah," Bull agrees. "But I've been doing this job for a few years now and if there's one thing I've learned it's that the parents are nearly always more nervous than the kids."

Dorian pauses. It's true that he'd been very firm in emphasising to the school office that they should call him at the first hint of trouble, and that he'd taken the day off work to ensure that he'd be around to collect Krem at a moment’s notice in case there was a problem, but really that was just perfectly rational planning given what had happened.

"He's not used to this sort of environment," Dorian says, "And I'm simply not sure how well he'll cope with such a stressful experience."

Bull stares at him for a long moment and then says, "You do realise they're five, right? They're doing things like colouring to practise using writing tools and playing clapping games. If he starts finding it stressful you need to let me know because it means that there's something wrong."

Dorian frowns. His own memories of school are very different. From the beginning there'd been neat rows of desks and quiet writing in copybooks, with what at the time had felt like harsh punishments (such as staying at your desk and working while the other children had outdoor exercise) for any disruptive behaviour. But one look around this classroom, with its brightly coloured walls and childish drawings pinned up on display, suggests that the fun the children appeared to be having during their visit wasn't occurring simply because they were there outside of normal learning hours.

"Right," he says. The seriousness with which Bull states that Dorian should let him know if Krem is distressed is reassuring, he manages to make it seem like this job is more than just a pay check to him. "Still, the school office has my contact details and if there's any sort of a problem..."

"...If there's any sort of a problem you'll get a call," Bull says. "But trust me, he'll be fine."

Dorian looks over at Krem, who has hung his coat up and changed into his indoor shoes, his trainers placed neatly on a shelf beside his backpack. He's talking quietly with a boy who looks far too small to be old enough to be in school, he doesn't even look over at them, a far cry from Dorian who recalls his early days at school being spent getting scolded over crying for his nanny. Perhaps, despite or because of the difficulties he's already faced so far, Krem is a braver child than Dorian was. He feels, suddenly, moisture welling in his eyes and has to blink rapidly to clear it. That won't do at all. "Well then, I shall see you this afternoon," he says, and Bull nods.

"That you will," he says, "And Dorian - there's no need to spend all day checking your phone and worrying."

Dorian knows he's going to anyway, and from the look on Bull's face it seems he does too, but Dorian nods, and then departs.

*

His phone doesn't ring all day, and Dorian manages to hold off on the temptation to call the school at midday to check in. It would likely only aggravate the administrators, and given that if things go well Krem will attend the school for years it's probably best not to do that so early on. Instead he cleans their apartment from top to bottom and goes grocery shopping, slightly wishing he had gone to work so that at least he had a distraction.

At half past two he drives up to the school and stands with the parents milling around the playground. He doesn't get as many funny looks as he'd expected, which bodes well. He might be the only person of Tevinter origin in sight, but the school clear attracts a mixed bunch, he can see almost as many elves as humans, and even a handful of dwarves scattered about the place - all mixing like persons of equal status which never would have occurred in Tevinter.

At three o'clock an electric bell sounds, and within minutes dozens of children are charging out, the volume easily tripling as they reunite with parents and siblings. The youngest children need to be collected directly from the classroom, which Dorian thinks is a sensible precaution, and so he makes his way down the already familiar feeling route to Krem's classroom.

He feels his stomach tighten as he approaches, wondering what he's about to face and hoping that at the very least Krem has made it through the day unhurt this time.

It takes him a moment to spot Krem, not waiting early by the door like a handful of children, but standing by the coat pegs chattering eagerly to an elven girl whose face is covered in green marker pen.

Bull walks over as soon as he sees Dorian, grinning. "See, he's fine."

Dorian nods. He certainly looks fine, which is a good start, he'll have to get Krem to talk about his day on the way home though, before his nerves are fully set at easy. "That girl he's talking to..." Dorian begins, and Bull laughs.

"Oh yeah, the pen. I've had a few parents concerned that I'm letting the kids draw all over themselves, and some funny ideas about ink poisoning." Dorian snorts, if ink poisoning were a thing he'd never had made it to adulthood, he'd suffered from the dreadful adolescent habit of biting his pens until the ends snapped off and more than once ended up with a mouthful of the stuff. "Her parents are Dalish and apparently she's been going through a phase of fascination with their vallaslin, they seem happy enough to let her experiment so," Bull shrugs. "She's not hurting anyone."

Dorian nods. There aren't any Dalish in Tevinter, elves face a great deal of discrimination even when they were perfect citizens, elves who wanted to practise their own religion and culture generally moved south and never came back.

"Hey Krem," Bull calls, "Your dad's here for you."

Krem turns to them and looks disappointed, which Dorian would be offended by if it didn't mean that at least Krem was having a good time.

He puts his coat on and comes wandering over. "Hi," he says to Dorian, then, "Do I have to go already?"

Five and a half hours of school seems like it should have been more than enough to satisfy him. Sometimes Dorian is baffled by this child. "I'm afraid it's time to go home now," he explains, "The day is finished."

Krem pouts. "But other people are staying..." he says with a hint of a whine in his voice.

"Only until somebody comes to pick them up," Bull explains. "And somebody is here for you."

Krem heaves a put upon sigh. "Alright then..." he grumbled, tugging his coat on.

"What do you say?" Dorian reminds him.

Krem looks up at Bull. "Thank you Mr. Bull," he says solemnly. Dorian had been trying to prompt 'goodbye' but thank you was equally polite he supposes.

Surprise flashes across Bull's face before he smiles back and says, "No problem kid. See you..."

Krem nods, and with only a little huff follows Dorian back to the car.

He sulks the whole time Dorian is helping him with his seatbelt and for the first ten minutes of the drive, but then he catches sight of a bus which he announces reminds him of the bus in the story Bull apparently read to the class that afternoon, and once he's started talking he maintains a constant flow chatter about other people in his class and the things they've done that day.

"...and then after lunch... after lunch which was sausages and potatoes and carrots and peas in a really big room with so many tables... after that I showed Stitches how to make a fortune teller."

"Stitches?" Dorian asks, glancing back in the rear-view mirror.

Krem nods. "I forgot his name and called him that and he said it sounded cool and that was his new name now and everybody has to call him it even Mr Bull."

Oh dear, Dorian bets that boy's parents aren't going to be happy about that.

Krem maintains his chatter once they get home, settling it at the kitchen table in order to monologue while Dorian prepares him a peanut butter sandwich.

He quiets while he eats, focusing intently on his sandwich. Dorian knows that Krem ate a good breakfast and the school served him a lunch that he says was 'really really good' at noon but he eats like he hasn't seen food in a week. Ah, Dorian misses the days when he could eat like that and not have to worry about making trips to the gym to maintain his figure.

Krem's just finishing of his crusts when he cries, "Oh! Oh!" leaping down from his chair and darting halfway across the room before turning to Dorian and adding, "May I leave the table?" A little belated but it has been a very exciting day for him.

"Go on then - but no running indoors," he cautions. Krem leaves the room via the briskest walk Dorian has ever seen, the sound of his footsteps speeding up to what is clearly a jog the moment he's out of sight, a minute later he returns, carrying a sheet of paper with the sort of care one might employ when transporting bone china. He slides the paper onto the table in front of Dorian and says shyly, "Look what I did."

The worksheet is labelled 'My New School', with the date and Krem's name traced in shaky letters across the top. Dorian's been working on Krem's handwriting with him since the boy first arrived and knows he can trace better than that, although he still struggles to make them without a guide, but perhaps he was nervous or rushing. Regardless, drawn below is several abstract shapes that Dorian thinks might represent Krem's classroom beside which is a clearly painstaking rendering of Bull. Dorian stands, walking over to the kitchen door and pulling out two fridge magnets and affixing the sheet to the metal with the care that it is due.

"It's lovely," he says, "You've done an excellent job on Bull horns."

Krem grins, and after a few moments of admiring his own work scampers off to amuse himself racing toy cars across the living room floor.

As they evening draws on though, Krem grows quieter and quieter, culminating after dinner when he answers Dorian's question as to did he want to watch a movie with a shrug and a melancholy sigh.

"Are you okay?" Dorian asks.

Krem shakes his head. "No," he pronounces glumly, "I'm very sad."

Dorian settles beside him on the sofa. "Why are you sad?"

"I liked school," he explains.

"Okay," Dorian says, utterly lost. "But that makes you sad?"

Krem nods. "It was fun. Mr Bull is good at reading stories and me and Stitches and Stitches's friend who doesn't talk much played tag and some of the crayons were sparkly."

Dorian waits but it seems more explanation isn't forthcoming. Surely having fun is good? "Do you not want to go back tomorrow?" Krem needs to go to some sort of school, and this one really had seemed like it carried potential, but if Krem isn't happy with it then Dorian isn't sure he'll be able to send the boy back.

Krem stares at him, and then, "I can go back tomorrow?" he asks tentatively.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, we can find somewhere new," Dorian assures him. "But it's good for you to go to school every day to learn things."

"Every day?" Krem repeats breathlessly.

"Well not Saturdays and Sundays," Dorian corrects, "Every weekday."

Krem makes a sound which can only be described as a squeak. "Please!" he cries. "Please can I really go back?"

Dorian looked at Krem, who was gazing up at him with wide hopeful eyes. "Of course you can," he says, meaning to go on, but he's cut off by Krem whooping gleefully and nearly toppling off of the sofa.

"Tomorrow?" Krem asks. "Can I go back tomorrow?" Dorian nods and Krem claps his hands together.

It seems Dorian's terror of forcing Krem to attend school is unfounded, although he's now slightly concerned about how they’re going to cope with its absence on weekends…


	3. Chapter 3

Krem takes to school like a duck to water. He's occasionally insufferable about being made to get out of bed in the morning, which Dorian finds perfectly understandable, but he's always cheery once he arrives and at the end of the day is always delighted to share with Dorian tales of his exploits.

So when Bull stops Dorian upon him entering the classroom one October afternoon and says, "He's playing with the after school club kids. If you've got five minutes I'd like a word about something that happened today," something twists bitterly in Dorian's stomach. Of course they couldn't manage a full month without something going wrong. Bull directs Dorian to what's clearly the teachers’ lounge, currently unoccupied.

"What's happened?" Dorian asks uneasily.

Bull produces a crumpled sheet of paper. "He threw this across the room during colouring time today. Hit one of the other kids in the head, although I'm pretty sure that was just bad luck."

Dorian takes the paper smoothing it with his hands as Bull continues. "I had to give him a bit of quiet time to try and calm him down. Asked if he wanted to talk about it but he said no," Bull explains. "Technically I'm not supposed to pry too much into what kids have going on at home unless I think they might be at risk, but the more I know about what's going on the easier it'll be for me to avoid another incident like this."

Dorian looks down at the paper. He'd never before experienced any great emotional reaction to an inanimate object, but the page radiated so much distress it made him ache.

"Yes, that would be for the best..." Dorian says with a nod, but he can't find the words to continue.

"Do you want some tea, coffee?" Bull asks and Dorian shakes his head.

"No I..." Dorian steels himself. "I don't know what you’re already informed of," he begins.

"Not much," Bull grumbles. "I'm thinking some paperwork didn't get passed on or something. I'd noticed the different last names but that's common enough these days, could mean anything. But I'm guessing from Krem's behaviour early that there's something I should have been told."

"In this case it means that I'm not actually Krem's father," Dorian explains. "Just a legal guardian. It's on all of his paperwork, I just assumed that would be passed on."

Bull shakes his head with a frown. "So his parents are...?"

"Back in Tevinter," Dorian says. "They came south while Krem's mother was pregnant, but she struggled post-partum and as he grew older the situation just broke down further," he explains. The breakdown of Krem's family was a tragic one, perhaps if their situation had been a little more stable, if Tevinter politics and economic deprivation hadn't already been crushing them, they might have held up, but that was not to be. "In the end the mother wanted to give him up and return to Tevinter and his father felt that Krem would have a stronger chance in life in a less conservative society and a less deprived household. They chose to make it a clean break, no contact - I'm informed that it all happened very fast and I'm not sure Krem was old enough to understand."

Bull gives a sombre nod. "And he's been placed with you for how long?"

"A year and a half. It was only supposed to be an emergency placement but he settled in better than expected so... they let him stay."

Bull nods. "Right, family is a touchy subject then. Wish I'd known that earlier."

"Sorry," Dorian says, but Bull silences him with a quick shake of the head.

"Not your fault. If he's a foster care kid you'll have filled out paperwork for that when you enrolled him, normally that would have been passed on to me but clearly someone screwed up. Normally my lesson plans are figured to avoid creating situations like this, we talk about kids living with grandparents or same gender parents, big families, small families, separate families and blended families, so none of them feel left out, but I guess that didn’t quite cover it this time."

Dorian runs his hands over the drawing hesitantly, uncertain of what to do with it. They sat in weighty silence for several long moments, before Bull said, "Can I ask, you said you were supposed to be a temporary arrangement, but that his parents gave him up for good a year and a half ago?" Dorian nods. "Right, well then why haven't social services tried to find him somewhere more permanent? He's a good kid, surely there's someone out there who'd be eager to adopt him."

"Trust me, I've tried," Dorian replies, almost too frustrated to notice Bull's blink of surprise.

"You want to adopt him?" Bull asks, Dorian isn’t sure why he sounds so startled given that he was the one who just pointed out that a person would be lucky to have Krem as a son.

Dorian sighs. "You wouldn't believe the amount I've spent on lawyers."

"So you can be his guardian but not adopt him?" Bull asks, puzzled. "I know social services sometimes operate in mysterious ways but that seems..."

"Not social services, immigration," Dorian corrects and watches understanding bloom on Bull's face as he suspected it might - it was only a few generations ago that Par Vollen finally broke from centuries of isolationist politics and even more recent still that one began to see qunari beyond the borders of nations that practised the Qun such as Rivain.

“Krem was born in Fereldan but his parents didn’t enter the country legally, putting his citizenship in dispute, and while I’ve been living in Fereldan si- for some time now,” he’d been about to say since his mid-twenties, but decides there is no need to reveal just how long passed that age was, “I’m not a Fereldan citizen either. Plus I’m a mage.”

Bull doesn’t flinch – Dorian’s heard about qunari attitudes to magic, but it seems Bull is a little abnormal on that front, perhaps as consequence of not living in a country under the qun… although Rivian has both the qun and a moderate attitude towards magic so maybe Dorian is oversimplifying. “It technically shouldn’t make a difference but I must say I do seem to encounter a ridiculous amount of delays, most of them cropping up right after I share that little tidbit.”

Bull laughs. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Legally speaking qunari have all the same rights as humans in Fereldan, but the rental people will run in circles finding an excuse to turn you away when you come to them with a rack like this,” he says, tapping his horns. They are very large… and while the school has high ceilings in a standard room they’d be perilously close to scraping against the roof.

"A person may be progressive, but a society will always skew conservative," Dorian recites. Gereon Alexius’s justification for accepting Dorian’s proclivities while Dorian was a useful protegee, but never backing any sort of reform that might have supported him. The words taste bitter but they’re true.

Bull shrugs. "That's one way of looking at it," he says, sounding almost doubtful despite the fact just moments ago he'd been pointing out evidence in support of such a notion. Once again they both fall silent for a moment and then Bull says, "I'm guessing you don't want to keep that," and nodding to the paper in Dorian's hands.

Dorian holds it away from him quickly. "No," he says. "I- it's probably useful for me to see for certain the Krem is still struggling but..." The picture makes him uncomfortable, not just through grief on Krem's behalf for the parents he's lost almost as thoroughly as if they'd been killed, but also a more selfish distaste at the necessary reminder that he is but a substitute guardian.

Bull takes the drawing and tosses it one handed into the waste-paper basket on the far side of the room. He makes the shot easily, and Dorian wonders if he does it often. "I don't make a habit of throwing kid's drawings away," Bull comments, "Even if the kids don't want to take them home, they're good for classroom and corridor decoration, but now we've sorted ourselves out I think this one can go - Krem's not the only kid I've taught with circumstances, I've got plenty of alternate worksheets for difficult topics. Now how about we go find Krem before he gets bored with the after-school lot and wonders why you aren't here?"

Dorian nods and stands although he thinks the likelihood of Krem getting bored is slim given that he's already asked several times if he can be enrolled in the after-school sessions so he can keep having fun with his friends. Dorian has thus far told him no on the grounds that Krem doesn't need alternate after-school care given Dorian's hours and that it's important to have quiet time at home too, and wouldn't Krem miss Sera? In truth he's simultaneously concerned that sooner or later Krem will grow to dislike school in the manner that nearly all children do and that extra hours in school will speed that process up, and also a little protective of his own time with Krem. This time he's glad of Krem's enthralment with all things school related though since it hopefully means a distraction from any earlier upsets, still Dorian hasn't paid for the after-school sessions and the school has already been generous in keeping him while Dorian speaks with Bull. "Yes, it's probably time to get him home," Dorian says, smiling past his concerns. The fact is that Krem's family situation isn't a problem he can fix, all he can do is rely upon the school to avoid exacerbating the situation and keep Krem distracted at home. It's not enough but it'll have to do.


	4. Chapter 4

As October moves into November Krem gets a cold and Dorian keeps him out of school for a week. He knows it probably isn't that serious, but Krem is so small and when he coughs his whole body jerks so violently that even though Dorian has called their GP in and been told the only thing Krem needs is rest he's half tempted to take the boy to the hospital. He resists the urge. The doctor is almost certainly right in saying that it's merely a cold, and dragging Krem out of the house to be surrounded by more sick people won't help in the slightest. Instead he spends a great deal of time curled up on the couch half watching the television and reading emails on his phone while Krem shivers miserably against his side. Normally Dorian would object to watching so many movies featuring animated talking animals, but they are the only things bringing Krem any cheer. Except Lilo and Stitch. That had been a terrible idea. Dorian had figured that ‘little girl gets dog from space’ would be cheerful enough, and flicked it on before turning his attention to complex inquiry emailed to him from a regular contact at the University of Orlais without a second thought. But after a while, Dorian had felt a damp patch on his shirt and looked down to see that Krem had tears running down his cheeks - his sniffles and shakes not just a side effect of a runny nose but rather the sobs he was muffling with a tiny fist. It had taken twenty minutes to calm him down and by the time they'd talked through Krem's distress and the boy had drifted off into a nap and Dorian had been struggling to control his own emotions. Who had decided to market a movie like that at children?

On Thursday Krem is finally starting to perk up, still sneezing but showing a little interest in actually getting up and playing, building block towers and then roaring and knocking them over with something close to his usual excitement although Dorian is keeping a careful eye on him for any signs of fatigue. He is just pondering which variation of chicken soup to prepare for lunch - chicken noodle, chicken and sweetcorn, chicken with dumplings - when the phone rings, the display showing an unknown number.

There are only a handful of people with his personal number and as far as he recalled all of them were in his contacts list already, all business calls went to his other phone - which was currently switched off and in his office.

Baffled, Dorian accepts the call but stays silent, waiting for the caller to identify themselves.

"Hey, it's Bull." Dorian fumbles the phone a little. "I noticed Krem's been absent a few days, the office said you called him in with a cold on Monday, but the kids are at lunch and while I have some free time I wanted to check in on how the little guy is doing?"

A holy terror of snot, Dorian does not say; instead: "He's still under the weather but I think he's past the worst of it. Hopefully he'll be back next week."

"Good, good," Bull replies. "A few of the other kids have been asking after him, is it okay if I pass that on?"

"They have?" The words slip out of Dorian. For all that Krem talks about his friends at school and Dorian has seen him playing with other children at hometime, it still startles him that Krem might have formed sufficient bonds that there are people who would ask after his absence. Dorian is glad of it. "Yes, feel free to tell them that Krem is getting better."

"Me?" Krem calls from the living room. "Coming!"

"Bat-eared child," he grumbles, apparently a little louder than he'd meant to as he catches Bull laughing at him down the phone. "I wasn't calling you," he corrects as Krem scampers in, "Go back to your blocks."

"But you said my name..."

“Ah, yes, but I was discussing you not adressing you,” Dorian explains.

Krem’s brow furrows. “Talking about me? To who?” he asks.

Dorian is tempted to tell him not to be so nosy, but it feels a little hypocritical, if he’d overheard his own name in someone elses conversation he’d be quite determined to find out what was being said and to whom.

“Bull called to ask after your health,” Dorian says and Krem immediately makes grabby hands in the direction of the phone.

“Mr Bull! Can I talk to him?”

Krem sounds so hopeful that Dorian actually lifts the phone back to his head and says, “Krem would like to speak with you.”

“Sure thing,” Bull replies.

“Hello Mr Bull,” Krem chirps as soon as Dorian hands him the phone.

Dorian can hear the indistinct sounds of Bull speaking, to which Krem responds, “Oh yes, very poorly. So bad,” he demonstrates with a cough so theatrical that Dorian starts to wonder if the school ever puts on student performances, perhaps there’s a hidden talent there to be unearthed.

There’s a pause, Krem nodding along to whatever Bull is saying. Then Krem says, “I thought it might be the social worker on the phone, but I’m glad it’s you.” Krem sounds so damn serious when he says it that Dorian’s heart aches. He can barely stand to think of why Krem thought that Dorian might be speaking to a social worker while he’s sick, nothing good going by his tone. Dorian doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s scared the boy by not checking out the contents of that damn movie first or if there’s some other way in which he’s slipped up that has Krem worring about the permanace of his place here. Dorian knows that Krem isn’t unaware that their current situation is not officially a permanent arrangement - Dorian had tried to be open about that from the start, when he really had thought that Krem would be taken elsewhere after a few weeks and he hadn’t wanted to give the boy a false sense of security that would only end in dissapointment. And despite his own hopes Dorian hasn’t mentioned that he’s working towards the possibility of permanent adoption because although Krem is a clever child for his age Dorian isn’t sure if he’d understand that such a decision rests first upon the complex whims of the legal system.

He’s jerked out of his train of thought by Krem saying, “Bye-bye Mr. Bull,” and thrusting the phone abruptly back into Dorian’s hand before leaving the room, apparently no longer interested now that his curiosity has been satisfied.

“Well that was quick,” Dorian comments, lifting the phone back to his ear.

"He seems to be doing well. How're you holding up?" Bull asks.

"Fine... whatever strain of cold he has doesn’t seem to have been passed on. I’m somewhat tired of cartoons but I'm sure I'll endure somehow."

Bull's laughter rumbles down the line. "Never doubted it, but I've heard it's not easy, looking after a sick kid on your own. You've got time off work?"

"I've had to rearrange some meetings, but nothing worth making a fuss about," he answers. The consultancy firm which employs him is focused on the more esoteric magical specialisations and had no real rivals in Fereldan, so Dorian's clients will either have to accept the wait or conduct their business internationally. His bosses know that finding anyone else to cover Dorian’s unique dual areas of expertise would be inconvenient at best and so are willing to be flexible. Also he’d brought Krem into the firm’s headquaters on one occasion when he’d needed to sign off on some documents, and the boy had charmed almost everyone he’d encountered.

Bull hums. “Well, glad to hear your both doing okay, you reckon Krem will be back next week?”

“Barring any unforseen setbacks, yes,” Dorian says.

“Be good to have him back,” Bull says. “His friends have been missing him.”

Krem hasn’t said anything about missing friends, but Dorian tries to read too much into that, telling himself that it’s perfectly likely that being ill simply kept Krem focused on himself, and it was foolish to worry about these relationships.

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to,” Dorian says, “But I’ll let you get back to your day…”

“I called you,” Bull reminds him with a laugh, “But you’re right, need to get things set up for the afternoon. See you both Monday Dorian. Looking forward to it.”

*

Dorian had to smile the following Monday, when Krem was met at the classroom door by a hoard of concerned and curious admirers.

“You’re back!”

“Were you very poorly?”

“Did you have to go to the hospital?”

“Did you _throw up?!_ ”

For a moment Krem looks overwhelmed, cringing back towards Dorian but then he raises a hand and the other children fall quiet. From the other side of the sea of tiny children, Bull catches Dorian’s eye and grins.

“I had the worst cough in the entire universe,” Krem announces, “But I’m better now.”

In response several of the other children raise their hands. Krem points to a dark haired girl near the front.

“So you didn’t thow up?” she asks, sounding disappointed. Krem shook his head and pointed to the next child. Dorian had to smile back at Bull, amused by how well trained all of the children were.

“Did you have to stay in your room the whole time you were poorly?”

“Mostly,” Krem declares with a put upon sigh.

“Aw that’s sad.”

Krem shakes his head vehmently. “Nuh-uh, my room is so good. I’ll draw you it – it has a slide!”

“A slide?”

“A slide!”

“I wish I had a slide…”

Krem immerses himself in the crowd of children, who move as a pack in the direction of the colouring area. Bull is forced to move with them, but before he goes he calls across to Dorian, “Good to see you both back.”

*


	5. Chapter 5

Dorian had never been fond of the holiday period as a child. It had always been a whirlwind of formal parties for which he was dressed up and show off to his parents friends before being sent away to mix with their odious children under minimal supervision. The occasion itself had always resulted in shower of expensive gifts, his mother getting very drunk and the inevitable mid-afternoon screaming match between his parents in which they each blamed the other for ruining the day. He'd stopped really celebrating when he left home and hadn't given any real thought to season festivities until the previous year when he'd caught Krem gazing admiringly at glitzy shop window displays and realised with a lurch that he ought to put at least a little effort into acknowledging the season for Krem's sake. He'd scowled his way through shopping for gifts, shuddered every time he'd caught sight of a decoration and felt his temper grow thinner with each day leading up to the event. He'd tossed and turned on the 23rd, unable to fall asleep and been startled the next morning to wake up to the sight of his bedside clock flashing 10:37am and a near silent apartment. As a child Dorian had slept late and his parents had been irritatingly early risers who had to have him dragged from his bed in order to eat breakfast at what they deemed and appropriate hour, but every bit of seasonal media content he'd consumed had informed Dorian that most children woke up at dawn on Christmas morning screaming and demanding that everyone in the household join them in their wakefulness so that they could enjoy immediate material gratification. The peace was strange and a little worrying.

He'd pulled on his dressing gown uncertainly and slipped into the living room where he'd found Krem curled up on the sofa under his blanket watching cartoons with nary a glance in the direction of the stack of gifts around the unlit fireplace. Dorian had greeted Krem and got him fed and only at Dorian's own prompting had the boy finally shown an interest in the gifts. He'd opened each one carefully, taking time to examine the contents before stacking them to one side, a process which was oddly quiet. Dorian remembered having plenty to say on the quality of his gifts as a child and his parents always had questions, though he'd come to realise later that those questions were simply a point-scoring game between them as to whom had made the most successful purchases. Finally the last box had been opened and Krem had turned to Dorian with an expression that was less pleased and more confused and overwhelmed, although there'd only been perhaps two dozen parcels under the tree and most of them had contained only simple gifts like toy cars or candy.

Dorian had tidied up the used paper while Krem had taken his gifts to his room, and shortly after they'd sat down to a Fereldan-style Christmas dinner that Dorian had ordered for a caterers. Dorian had found it all terribly bland and Krem had picked at his food uncomfortably before Dorian finally dismissed him from the table and let him return to his spot in front of the TV. Dorian had retreated to his office and they'd stayed like that until bedtime.

It was a day best put behind both of them.

This year Dorian is determined to do better. He'd had an uncomfortable but necessary conversation with Krem about what the boy actually wanted Christmas to be like, gleaned some insight into the mishmash of half-remembered family traditions and pop culture staples that made up his expectations, and is determined to plan something fitting. He's already cleared a spot in the living from for a tree they'd pick out together, to be trimmed with decorations Krem had made by hand. By mutual agreement they'll be sticking to good Tevene food: nothing fancy but warm and satisfying and familiar. Krem's visions of an extended family gathered around had given Dorian pause, he could hardly summon Krem's birth parents back for the boy, hadn’t spoken with his own in years, but he also wasn't the only person he knew without a family with whom to pass the season, and a few phone calls had Felix and Maevaris booking flights - the best alternative that Dorian could muster.

Presents are an irritating challenge. Dorian felt sure that after nearly two years he ought to have sufficient grasp of Krem's tastes to choose an appropriate gift, but the best he could conceive of was more crayons, or more toy cars, nothing sufficient for the occasion.

When Krem had come home from school with a list of his favourite things Dorian had briefly hoped for some inspiration but that was not to be.

  

Friends couldn't be purchased, despite what the Minrathous elite might play at, and Krem already owned a hammer, a birthday gift courtesy of Sera who'd apparently heard that children liked to play pretend at things like being builders and skipped over the toy section in favour of an actual toolbox, around half of the contents of which Dorian had promptly confiscated as far too hazardous and the rest was permitted only under adult supervision. A climbing frame had potential but wouldn't fit inside the apartment or on the small balcony and it was too near to Christmas to consider a move to someplace with a yard.

While he’s been in town he’s picked up another silk scarf for Mae’s collection, for Felix a book, for Sera a box of bee shaped honeycomb chocolates, but he’s been in and out of what feels like a hundred toyshops and children’s sections and found nothing remotely adequate. Krem doesn’t lack for toys and is too young to appreciate being gifted fashionable accessories and a book was hardly an exciting present for a child still grasping the basics of reading. And he’ll be getting more than enough food and sweets already.

He's all but despairing as he walks past the sports centre where a pair of workers with coats left open to reveal uniform polo shirts pass out brochures advertising their classes for the New Year to reluctant passers-by with the grim façade of cheer that marks anybody working in the service industry for the holiday season. No doubt they'll sure in their fair share of poor fools though, people who'll swear that the next year will be the one in which they start going to gym regularly and are naive enough to put money down now for exercise classes which will appeal far less in a few weeks’ time when they're lying in bed recovering from their Christmas food coma and new year’s hangover and deciding if they really want to venture out into the snow for a gym session.

Dorian tries to slip past them, but his efforts are for naught, the shorter of the two thrusts a brochure into his hands with a glare that just dares Dorian to throw it straight in the nearby trash can. Instead, he keeps walking until he reaches his car, slipping into the seat and turning the heat on. While he waits for the car to be warm enough that he can remove his coat and not have to worry about it annoying him while driving, he indulges in idle curiosity, flipping through the pages of the catalogue and rolling his eyes at the glossy spreads of personal trainers assuring potential readers that their twelve week course can of course give anyone the body of the perky twenty year old pictured. He flips right past the pages of scrawny adolescent girls advertising dance classes but pauses on the final few pages.

"FUN FOR KIDS:" reads the header and following it are a range of pictures of children who do indeed look as if they're having a considerable amount of fun. It seems the sports centre runs twelve week beginner classes for children of a variety of ages in over two dozen sports - from rugby to ribbon twirling. The coaches are all qualified to the highest degree and the fees are reasonable.

He'd been planning to toss the brochure right in the next bin he saw, but instead he folds it so that contact number sits face up. It's something to consider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this verse has Andrastianism and also Christmas - Andrastianism made sense in the original prompt fill but then I really wanted to write Christmas chapters so just humour me.
> 
> Also I would like to 100% advise everyone to check out [tranquilherald's lovely art of Dorian and bb!Krem](http://tranquilherald.tumblr.com/post/134670965614/i-really-love-the-fic-and-bull-makes-three-by)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Splitting the Christmas chapter in two in order to get at least some of it up before easter!  
> Sorry everyone, this semester has eaten me alive. I can make no promises about when the next update will come, only that I have no intention of abandoning this fic and it will come eventually. Thanks for your patience.

They are a little late in starting their formal preparation for Christmas. The decorations didn’t go up until the tenth and Krem's Christmas cards to his classmates were hurried last minute things that Dorian had packed into backpack on the final day of term, crossing his fingers and hoping that nobody had been forgotten. Now, though, it's December 23rd and the tree stands in the corner of the room, bedecked with enchanted lights and homemade ornaments and shedding glitter and pine needles all over the floor.

Krem is antsy.

Dorian can't blame him. He's explained to the boy that Felix and Mae were Dorian's good friends who'd be visiting during the holiday, but no amount of assurances that they'll adore him prevents Krem's apprehension.

In truth, Dorian is feeling a little tense himself. It's not that he doubts for a moment that Mae and Felix will dote upon Krem, but despite Krem's wish for a big family Christmas Mae and Felix are Dorian's people, strangers to Krem, and if the boy doesn't take to them then the next few days are going to be uncomfortable at best. He's trying not to sneak anxious glances in the direction of the front door, if only because Krem is already doing so and if he picks up on Dorian's unease he's likely to grow more concerned.

They're watching a cartoon about a snowman (and Maker, Dorian hopes it doesn't snow, Fereldan winters are quite bad enough already) when Dorian hears a soft knocking on the door, followed, after a momentary pause, by two sharp raps. When they were younger Felix had spent a lot of time waiting outside doors because he'd knocked too quietly for anyone to notice he was there set alone ask him in. Beside Dorian Krem tenses, and as he pauses the TV Dorian lays a hand on Krem’s shoulder. "Would you like to come and say hello to Felix?" he asks.

Krem nods, the gesture is clearly reluctant but Dorian admires his bravery and doesn't comment when Krem reaches up to grasp Dorian's hand in a clinging grip.

As predicted, the door opens to reveal Felix, looking a little travel worn but cheerful. “Good to see you Dorian,” he greets, “And this must be Krem.” Felix looks down at Krem, then back up at Dorian, then back down once more and says, "Did you pick out that haircut or did he?"

Dorian looks down at Krem, although from this angle he can only really see the top of the boy’s head, and wonders why Felix would ask that. As far as Dorian can see, it is a perfectly good style. “Krem chose it for himself,” he says.

Felix seems inexplicably amused. “Well it looks better on him than you.”

Dorian rolls his eyes. While it is true that there are perhaps certain similarities between his and Krem’s cuts they’re hardly the same, but then what else could be expected of Felix, who has shorn his hair short ever since he was old enough not to have his mother decide for him.

“Drink?” he asks Felix who nods and asks for coffee. “Krem, would you like anything?” Krem shakes his head rapidly. “Okay, then why don’t you show Felix where to hang his coat and take him through to the living room while I get his drink?”

Krem doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t protest either, so Dorian wanders through to the kitchen and prepares two coffees, carrying the steaming mugs carefully through to the living room.

Felix has always been much better than Dorian with children, so it isn’t much of a surprise to see that he’s seated himself on the floor and has coaxed Krem into a halting explanation of the cartoon playing, despite the fact that it’s a classic which Dorian is certain Felix has seen on at least a dozen previous occasions. Dorian hands Felix his coffee and they resume the movie.

*

They have pasta for dinner and when Felix perches on the counter and mocks Dorian for his lacking culinary expertise Krem huffily defends Dorian’s amazing tomato sauce (it comes out of a jar but he adds extra garlic before serving) and Felix asking probing questions about their diet. Krem proudly declares that Dorian’s cooking is even better than school meals and to Dorian’s surprise starts talking about all of the food groups included in his meals – Dorian is certain that at five he didn’t even know what a food group was, never mind how much of each he was supposed to eat.

Felix nods approvingly at Krem. “Well done,” he says, “I didn’t think anybody could manage to get Dorian to eat his vegetables but it sounds like you’re doing a good job.”

“Dorian eats vegetables,” Krem says. “We had soup with peas and carrots in it yesterday.”

“Maybe now, but last time I visited there was nothing in his fridge except for ready meals and a three week old banana,” Felix explains. “You’re a good influence.”

“Yes… well, cooking for one is inefficient,” Dorian defends weakly as Krem stares at him incredulously.

“Three week old banana?” he echoes. “Ewwww.”

Felix nods in agreement.

“Oh look – the pasta is done,” Dorian interjects, and quickly attempts to silence the pair with food.

*

After dinner, Dorian washes the dishes while Felix explains the story of the holiday and how Saint Nicholas had bestowed gifts to remind children of the gifts the Maker had given to them. They’ve just got onto how the celebratory tree was adopted from Dalish traditions when Dorian receives a text saying that Mae’s flight has been delayed, but she assures him it’s an airline error that will be resolved soon enough, not anything that might put a stop to her trip.

“Mae’s been delayed,” he announces, “She won’t get here until tomorrow.”

“So are we going to St Nick’s grotto without her or waiting?” Felix asks.

“St Nick’s grotto?!”

Krem’s eyes are saucer wide and Dorian rolls his own at Felix. “Surprise,” he says dryly.

Felix has the grace to look ashamed. “Oops?”

Dorian shakes his head. “It’s fine. It’ll be busy tomorrow, but Mae should be on a morning flight so we'll have time.”

"We don't have to go," Krem pipes up, despite his evident excitement.

"It's open until the afternoon," Dorian says, "Don't worry; there will be plenty of time."

Krem looks uncertain. "Won't St Nick be too busy on the day before Christmas? I don't want to take up his time and ruin Christmas."

Dorian is flabbergasted by this concern but Felix grins. "St Nick was one of the most powerful mages in history, my father researched time magic like the stuff St Nick uses to get to all the children in one night. I'm sure he can make enough time for you, right Dorian?"

Dorian nods. "I've studied time magic myself - you don't need to worry, we'll make sure he has time for you as well as all the others."

Krem nods slowly, the corners of his mouth twisting back upward into a grin.

"Excited then?" Felix teases.

Dorian can't supress his amusement when Krem look up at him and points out, "So are you."

Felix raises his hands in surrender. "Caught," he confesses. "I really like Christmas. Dorian is the scrooge here."

"Scrooge?" Krem asks, puzzled, and Felix looks at Dorian with melodramatic horror.

"And here I thought you were doing right by this child!" he accuses. "Does your TV have on-demand?" Dorian nods - he's always had it but since Krem has come into his life and minimised the time he has for watching shows unsuitable to children it's become more worthwhile than ever.

For a moment Felix looks like he's going to pick Krem up, but then seem to think better of it and instead says, "Follow me," pointing enthusiastically towards the living room, where he immediately seizes possession of the TV remote and calls up his beloved Muppets movie.

Dorian has mixed feelings towards Dickens, but he's come to terms with Felix's attachment to the puppet version of a Christmas Carol, so he supposes he should have expected this.

Worryingly, halfway through the movie it becomes clear that Krem is delighted by it and Felix smirks at Dorian over Krem's head. This is going to become some sort of strange tradition if Felix gets his way, he's luring Krem over to the size of puppet literature adaptations.

By the time the movie has ended Krem has nodded off but Felix is unperturbed. "We can watch it again tomorrow with Mae," he says, and when Dorian suggests that might be an excellent opportunity to finish up the last few bits of wrapping while Krem is occupied he glowers and mutters "Scrooge" once more. Dorian lifts Krem off the couch and carries the boy to his room. It's a bit of a challenge to lift him onto his bed, and it's moments like this that he wonders if it wouldn't have been better to get Krem a normal height bed, but the amusement of watching him slip down the slide still half asleep each morning and then lay on the floor until coaxed into true wakefulness more than justifies the occasional inconvenience of lifting him into it. He probably shouldn't let Krem sleep fully dressed but waking him up to change seems like inviting more trouble than they need.

He leaves the door open just a crack, enough that he'll be able to hear Krem if the boy wakes the room has a hint of light to navigate by and but not enough to disturb Krem, then re-joins Felix. To his surprise when he glances at his watch it's coming up on ten pm so he and Felix catch up only briefly before Felix declared he'd best be getting back to his hotel if he want to rise bright and early in the morning. Dorian gives Felix a spare key - if he will insist on being up and about at unholy hours that he can let himself in and out of the apartment and not disturb anybody else's rest.

*

As Dorian predicted, when he wakes the next morning it's to the smell of food and when he wanders through to the kitchen Felix is in there flipping pancakes with a sunny smile.

"Urgh."

Somehow, ridiculously, Felix's expression brightens. "Good morning," he says, and then, "I thought Krem might be up but apparently you've found somebody who loves mornings even less than you do."

Dorian rolls his eyes, "He was up rather late last night," he says "But yes, he's sensible enough to know that the pre-dawn hours are for sleeping."

"Dorian, it's nearly 9am."

"And it's December," Dorian points out, "The sun probably hasn't been properly up for much more than half an hour."

Felix opens his mouth, and then shuts it again with a shake of his head, acknowledging his defeat. "These are nearly done," he says instead, "Though I suppose I could heat them up again later if Krem needs more rest."

"I'll wake him," Dorian says, "He'll be grouchy but he'll be grouchy no matter how late he sleeps."

Felix smirks, but Dorian ignores him.

True to form, his attempts to wake Krem are met with grumbling noises and a valiant attempt to hide beneath the blanket, and even after Dorian pries him out from beneath the bed covers, Krem's eyes remain resolutely shut.

"Felix has made pancakes," Dorian says, and one of Krem's eyes peeks open warily, snapping shut as soon as he realises Dorian is watching. "But," Dorian continues, "He might eat them all himself if nobody comes to stop him."

This time both of Krem's eyes open and he yawns and sighs, before wriggling to the end of the bed and down the slide. He lays limply on the ground and Dorian rolls his eyes and leaves the door wide open on his exit so that the smell of food will drift through the apartment.

When Dorian returns to the kitchen, Felix is already plating the pancakes, so Dorian assists him by fetching from the refrigeration the standard selection of jam, lemon, and syrup.

"No chocolate spread?" Felix asks and Dorian shakes his head.

"Krem doesn't know what he's missing and he'll thank me for it as an adult when all his teeth haven't rotted out," Dorian explains.

"Oh and jam and syrup are so healthy," Felix scoffs, but Dorian ignores him.

He's just finished putting cutlery on the table when Krem wanders in, blanket over his shoulders and trailing behind him like a cape. His eyes are shut and he is breathing deeply through his nose with the air of nothing so much as a hound following a scent. Across the room Felix brings his fist to his mouth to stifle laughter as Krem climbs into his chair and promptly lays his head on the table as if about to right back to sleep.

"Are you excited to see Saint Nick?" Dorian asks and Krem grumbles into the tablemat.

Felix is unable to suppress a snort.

Dorian puts a pancake with a spoonful of jam onto Krem's plate, and begins to eat his own breakfast.

Once Krem has some food in him he perks up, and begins asking Felix about the pancake recipe and if he could write it down so that Dorian could have it to use before school. Felix is happy to explain the process, but seems sceptical of the thought of Dorian rousing himself early enough to prepare pancakes from scratch in time for Krem to eat them before school. It's a point Dorian must concede. Krem never truly wakes until they're already in the car and driving to school anyway, so any effort to branch out beyond toast or cereal would likely be wasted.

Talking about their morning routines leads to the topic of school which Krem is happy to gush about, only pausing to dress, and continues to dominate the conversation in the car on the way to the airport with tales of craft projects and new games he's learnt and the books that he's learning to read, his favourite of which is no longer a good measure of his reading ability as Krem has the tale memorised.

When they arrive at the airport Krem is fascinated - what Dorian and Felix both consider a tedious place associated with security delays, rude customs officers and the constant frustration that comes with travelling on a Tevene passport is thrilling to Krem, the first step on the path to flying! Dorian resolves to looks into holiday destinations around Fereldan with airports. There's nowhere that really far enough to justify the inconvenience of flying, but a domestic flight would mean Krem could experience travel by plane without the complication of crossing borders.

Krem comes over shy again when Dorian reads aloud off the board that Mae's flight has landed and this time Dorian is more concerned. He’d thought extra company would improve Krem’s experience of the holidays, but instead it seems to be bringing him stress. He'd hoped Felix's good impression would boost Krem's confidence, but instead he might have to rely on the distraction of their visit to St Nick this afternoon to cheer him.

Mae is easy to spot as she exits the baggage claim, her heels making her one of the tallest in the crowd. She greets Dorian and Felix both with a kiss to the cheek and then turn to Krem, tucked tight against Dorian's side. Dorian waits with baited breath. Mae has never had Felix's gifts with children, she tends to treat them like small adults - to mixed results.

"Maevaris Tilani," she introduces herself, holding out a hand for Krem to shake.

He hesitates for a moment, but reaches up to grasp her hand and is unexpectedly firm as he responds, "Krem… Aclassi."

Mae nods and says, "Well, I think Dorian should take my case, and Felix my carry-on, and you, young man, may escort me to our vehicle."

She passes off both of her bags and then holds out her arm to Krem, who looks at it, baffled.

"You take it in yours," she explains, "Like - yes, like that. Well, let's be off."

Dorian will give her credit where it's due. Krem's nervousness has been replaced by the confusion that so often manifests in those unused Maevaris benevolent imperiousness - it serves her well in politics but apparently it has more uses that that.

When they reach the car, Mae is quick to point Felix towards the front seat and settle herself in the back with Krem.

Dorian is focused on driving, but he's still listening closely as Mae casually questions Krem as to what her delay has caused her to miss. Krem is less effusive as he gives his report than he was in his discussion with Felix, has the air of one choosing his words carefully, but he doesn't sound upset or overly intimidated by Mae so Dorian lets her continue.

Mae's carefully questioning reminds Dorian a little of how Felix's father once was - back in the early days of their relationship when he had been Master Alexius, Dorian's strict but appreciative mentor, not his friend Gereon nor Felix's greatest irritation. If Felix makes a call to his father then Dorian will ask Felix to pass on Dorian's best wishes, he decides, things might be strained between them now but that doesn't mean that Dorian cannot appreciate what a great support Gereon was when Dorian had been near to drowning beneath his father's icy expectations.

They're going directly into the city centre, at Mae's suggestion, so as to leave plenty of time for standing in lines and pushing through the inevitable throngs of last minute shoppers. Throngs that Dorian would once undoubtedly been a part of, back in the days when nobody expected much from him at all.

He shakes his head sharply, turning his attention to trying to weave the car forward through the traffic - it's a pointless effort, he gains, at best, a few yards, but it's better than getting pointlessly maudlin when, or perhaps because, all of his favourite people are right there with him.

It takes them another twenty minutes to reach the main shopping zone, twice as long as usual, and a torturous fifteen on top of that to find somewhere with an available parking space, but eventually he pulls them into a spot on the second highest floor of a multi-storey.

They get out and there's a few minutes of fussing with coats and bags and ensuring that Mae's case isn't visible to any passers-by who might be struck by the urge to smash a window in a make a grab for a potential source of valuables. By the end of that Mae is already pulling her coat tighter around her, but when Krem asks if he can go up to the top floor to see the view out of the city, she cheerfully offers to accompany him, claiming that she too is curious about the sight even though she'd flown over the city not two hours previously.

Dorian, who sees quite enough of the place as it is, takes the elevator straight down with Felix, who privately admits to not feeling up to facing the way the winds no doubt whip across the exposed upper level, and Mae and Krem join then a few moments later, pink cheeked and windswept despite the brevity of their time outdoors.

They walk briskly, Krem half-jogging to keep up with the pace the adults set, but the boy doesn't complain and Dorian thinks it's probably in all of their best instincts to get to their destination as soon as possible. It's not far to the mall, but by the time they arrive they're all a little worse the wear from the weather. Mae bears it with the most dignity, her windswept hair could probably be passed off as some avant-garde fashion statement, but Dorian has to pass Krem tissues so the boy can wipe his runny nose and Felix is rubbing his hands together as if trying to warm them up despite the fact he's wearing gloves. A glance at his reflection in the glass of shop window shows Dorian he's no better off. He's had to invest in sturdier hair products since coming south, Fereldan has so much weather, the staples Dorian had been raised with weren’t meant to hold up against anything more bracing than sun and wine soaked parties.

Once they're all halfway presentable again, Dorian leads them through the bustling crowds. Last minute shoppers no doubt. Dorian is almost regretting the decision to come, but then they reach 'St Nick's Grotto' and the look of pure glee on Krem's face reminds him why he came. The matching expression of delight from Felix reminds him why they're doing this in the face of the last minute rush.

Apparently, Krem's nervousness towards strangers didn't extend to shop employees on paper mâche thrones. The man's costume was cheap and his beard was clearly attached with elastic but Krem was straining up on his tiptoes to look at the man, bouncing in his eagerness each time the queue progressed. Dorian is worried about him falling over himself in his enthusiasm to move forward until Felix grabs hold of Krem, swinging the boy up onto his shoulders for a better view.

 St Nick’s elven servants, Dorian notes, include several pimply human teenagers in fake pointy ears and two dwarves, one with a distinctly un-elven looking beard – but none of the children seem to find any fault

 The finally reach the front of the queue and Krem approaches the costumed 'St Nick', answering his questions about good behaviour with only a few white lies that Dorian wouldn't dream of pointing out. When Krem receives his gift, a smartly wrapped box that looks like it could have come straight out of a stock photo (nothing like the haphazard pile of presents accumulating in the apartment) he hugs it to his chest and looks over at Dorian. "Do I have to wait for Christmas? St Nick is here!" he asks pleadingly. Ever since Dorian put the first present under the tree Krem's been poking at and shaking them, and every other day has featured Krem asking if he can't open just one - a small one! - early and Dorian has always refuted him with an insistence that he must wait for St Nick - that is, after all, the entire point of the holiday.

Dorian hums, pretending to consider, and Felix kicks him in the shin – “Have a heart” he hisses, and Dorian nods.

Krem tears into the paper with a vigour that is frankly a little alarming, and grips the toy car he unwraps triumphantly. “G-l-… gl-ow… in… the… d-a-r-… glow in the dark! Look its glow in the dark!” He’s waving the toy around too much for Dorian to actually get a good look, but he’s sure he’ll have plenty of chances to later. They spend some time walking around the shops after that, Dorian could do without being caught up in the crush of last minute shoppers, but Mae claims she needs to pick a few things up. Once Mae is finished Dorian feels it's only appropriate to offer her a taste of every day Fereldan culture and encourages Krem to show her all his favourites from the food court, where she accepts his recommendation of chicken nuggets dipped in Fereldan's spiciest sauce (or, as they'd call it in Tevinter, mild) with admirable grace.

They mistakenly exit from the far side of the mall, and have to walk all the way around the outside in the blistering cold to find the road back to the car park. On the way they pass an open air skating rink, it’s bright light striking against the quickly falling night and Krem stares curiously. Dorian has never understood why Fereldans think strapping knives to one's boots in order to slide about on a surface that's cold, hard, wet, and lacking the proper amount of friction to traverse is a reasonable pass-time, and he doesn't want Krem getting any ideas in that particular direction, so he hurries him back in the direction of the car with a quick reminder that the sooner Krem gets to bed the sooner St Nick will come.

They drive home through the darkness; several times Dorian hears quiet snoring and Felix comments that Krem has fallen asleep only for the snoring to cease long enough for Krem to offer up a yawning denial before he drifts back off. All this nap means is that by the time they get back to the apartment Krem is full of energy once again. Dorian fobs him off on Felix and heads into the kitchen to warm up some milk in the hopes that the beverage will do its usual trick of settling Krem down. Mae joins him.

“I notice he’s still an Aclassi,” Mae remarks, “It’s been over a year now. This hardly seems like an impermanent arrangement and yet you’ve made nothing official…?"

Dorian sighs. "It's not for want of trying. Unfortunately, while social services were happy enough to facilitate a temporary arrangement, they've been rather less co-operative about jumping through the myriad of flaming legal hoops in order to open up the possibility of a more permanent option..." He explains to Mae a quick summary of the issues with Krem’s legal status watching Mae’s frown deepen with every word. “-Fereldan can’t adopt out a Tevinter national, and I can’t get his citizenship changed without parental permission. If I take him back to Tevinter…”

“They’d recognise him as a citizen and take him from your custody,” Mae finishes. “And there’d be no future for him as a ward of the Imperium.”

Dorian nods. “I’ve a lawyer working on finding a loophole of some kind but... the Imperium holds onto its citizens tightly and though Fereldan’s immigration laws are the most relaxed in the south even they won’t freely hand out passports to Tevinter nationals.”

“If there’s any assistance I can offer, just ask,” Mae says, laying a hand briefly on Dorian arm. “I’m sure among the multitudes who court my attention there’s bound to be someone with connections inside Tevinter’s family court.” Generally speaking Dorian dislikes the corruption the lurks just below the surface of most of Tevinter’s official bodies, and he knows the Mae tries to avoid being so much as complicit in it, let alone an active participant. She’s reported enough people for underhanded favours that if word got out that she were pulling strings for a friend…

“Thank you,” he says, turning to dip a spoon into the milk and sample it. Warm enough. He pours the milk into a mug and says, “We'd best rescue the poor child before Felix turns his brain to soup.” They both fall quiet and they can hear Felix and Krem’s conversation drifting in from the next room.

“Is he talking about square numbers to a child that's only just old enough for the concept of multiplication?” Mae asks, exasperated.

“You know how Felix gets. Though I’m not sure Krem’s even reached multiplication yet,” Dorian says, “The Fereldan curriculum takes a gentler pace than Tevinter with younger pupils – there are no exams at all until they’re eleven.”

Mae laughs a little – “A rescue is certainly in order then.”

Despite the guests and his excitement about Christmas, Krem makes surprisingly little fuss about bedtime, excited for darkness in which to play with his new car. Dorian turns the lights out in the full knowledge that Krem has no intention of sleeping - but if it's dark and the boy is in bed he's bound to nod off eventually.

Once Krem has been settled, Mae fetches her case out of the car and removes from it several elegantly wrapped gifts, placing them neat among the stack already under the tree.

"Finally started using a service?" Felix asks. Dorian can't help but grin at the reminder of the first Christmas they'd known Mae, when along with gifts suiting Tevinter formality she'd brought both of them personal gifts that had been less wrapped and more had sheets of glitzy paper lopsidedly taped to the sides of it, Mae’s ability to bedeck gifts apparent far inferior to her skills at adorning herself.

Mae ignores them both, stepping back to admire the tree. Dorian wonders what she thinks of it. It's so far from the artistically decorated style of Tevinter. There's no enchantments upon this tree, no carefully charmed ice sculptures nor spell wisps flitting about the branches. No. Krem and Dorian's tree is wrapped in layer upon layer of multi-coloured lights and tinsel, so much that you can barely see the branches at all, and where tips of green breakthrough in odd places, baubles made of card and glitter glue hang. It's all abominably tacky but Mae's smile is approving.


	7. Chapter 7

On Christmas morning, Dorian is awoke by a rough shaking from Felix, overgrown child that he is, who redeems himself by promptly present Dorian with coffee before dragging him through to the lounge where Mae is talking to Krem who looks up at her with wide eyed awe.

“So then Dorian climbed onto the roof and-“

Oh no, the tale of the time Dorian tried to catch St Nick in the act - he should never have invited her. “I would like to point out that it was a bungalow,” he says quickly. In their area there are only high rises and multi-floored houses, and the last thing he needs is Krem getting any terrible ideas. “And the only thing I got for my troubles was covered in soot and made to write lines, so how about Mae stops telling boring stories and we start opening presents.”

He doubts that such a diversion will keep the anecdote at bay for long but for now Krem is successfully distracted by the pile beneath the tree – though it’s only a little larger than that of the previous year despite the doubling of their number. It seems inadequate but here in the south there’s a saying ‘it’s the thought that counts’ and while Dorian isn’t quite swayed he’s willing to dabble in local customs in order to ensure that Krem isn’t left feeling like his experience compares poorly to that of his peers – Dorian recalls from his own childhood that the days after the Christmas break were always spent comparing food and parties and gifts and he can’t imagine the southern youth being quite so different.

They get settled on the couches and Mae suggests that Krem take on the role of St Nick's elven assistants and take charge of the distributing of gifts. He first selects the gift that Dorian had brought for Felix on both of their behalves, presenting it with all of the grandeur of an Imperial Magister presenting a newly crowned archon with their staff of office. Felix removed the paper carefully, keeping the wrapping so neat that it could probably be used again, which was a frankly odd habit that he'd had for as long as Dorian had known him and never been able to explain, before crying out with delight at the sight of the latest high-end graphing calculator. Krem looked from the calculator to Felix and back again, then glanced over to Dorian and shrugged. When Dorian had been wrapping their presents for Felix and Mae, Krem had watched and queried that choice in gift, but Dorian had assured him that the chance to get to know Felix would make the appeal of the gift far clearer.

"Wow, you really do like maths," Krem observes, and Mae laughs.

"Yes dear, Felix truly is passionate about the most unusual of hobbies,” she explains and Krem hums.

Krem reaches next for their gift to Mae but she tsks and directs him instead to select one meant for himself. It's one of the smaller gifts from Dorian, bought spur of the moment when Dorian was getting groceries and pondering the excess of space beneath the tree, a toy firetruck complete with unrealistic sound effects but Krem seems pleased by it and has to be dissuaded from taking it out of the box right there and then and putting the festivities on pause in order to play with it.

Next, he passes Mae her gift, an elegant scarf made from the wool of a particularly fluffy variety of sheep found only in Fereldan, which she declared warmer than anything that could be brought in Tevinter and perfect for the rest of her trip and particularly cold winter nights.

It's Krem's turn again after that, opening the box from Felix. He takes a moment to run his fingers over the stickers, reading 'warning' aloud and then attempting to sound 'fragile' out before looking to Dorian for assistance.

"It says 'fragile'," Dorian explains, "That's like breakable."

Krem immediately pulls his hand back, looking between the box and Felix in alarm.

"It's okay," Felix assures. "You won't break it by unwrapping it, it's just not the sort of present you should shake about and jump on while trying to get clues as to what is inside."

Krem is still tentative, peeling back the paper with soft, careful touches to reveal what is inside. His face breaks into a wicked grin at the same time Dorian groans.

“ _Really_ Felix? Of all things?”

“Can it make stuff explode?!”

Dorian glances imploringly over at Mae, but quickly realises from her smirk that he’ll be getting no help from that direction. “Dorian had one of those sets as a boy and he certainly managed to make all sorts of fireworks.”

“And it’s educational!” Felix adds, leaving Dorian longing for something to throw at him.

“But it will have to wait until we’ve had time to read the instructions on how to do it safely,” Dorian said. He’d never been especially religious but he in that moment he offered his thanks to the maker that Krem has thus far shown no signs of manifesting magic and therefore at least he didn’t have to worry about the potential for multiplying trouble that came with mixing science and magic.

Krem sighs theatrically but nods. “You need a present now,” he declares, fetching from the pile of gifts a strangely shaped parcel wrapped in unfamiliar paper. “Here you go.”

Dorian takes the gift carefully. It’s solid but not heavy and the paper has been reinforced with a layer of tape over, two over every seam. It takes him a few moments to find a weak spot from which to tear the paper open, revealing a large cardboard tube painted white with Krem's blue-paint hand-print on top and a thick layer of glitter around the rim.

“It’s a pen holder!” Krem exclaims.

“Thank you,” he says, throat a little tight. “It’s lovely.”

Krem nods. “I know. I made it at school.”

Dorian smiles. “Well done.”

The glitter, he knows, will probably shed everywhere and the paint work is smudged and uneven. He pictures the pen holder placed on the solid oak surface of his desk, his Mont Blanc pens resting inside the tube, it stark incongruity of it all.

It’s perfect.

While Dorian has been marvelling at his own gift the others had apparently moved on and Dorian is startled from his reverie by Krem’s shriek of delight.

“A dragon!” Krem gasps, clutching the toy close. “My very own dragon! Thank you!”

Mae smiles indulgently, “You’re welcome sweetheart, but I think it’s a dinosaur… look see, no wings.”

Krem holds the toy out in front of him and rotates it in his hands, inspecting it thoroughly. Finally, he nods. “No wings,” he agrees, setting the toy aside, “But it’s a good dragon anyway.”

Mae pauses for a moment and then nods. “You’re right, he’s a very good dragon no matter what he looks like.”

They work their way through the rest of the presents, some more odds and ends for Krem - stickers and colouring pens and the like - while Dorian receives a pair of buttery soft leather gloves from Mae, who apparently knows better than to fall for any of Dorian’s fictions about how he is adapting to Ferelden winters, and a gorgeous first edition volume of the _liber primus necromantiae_ that Dorian had always admired in Gereon Alexius’s collection given by Felix from his family.

Finally all that is left is the decorated envelope in which Dorian had placed the brochure from which Krem can select his new hobby.

Compared to all of the bulky parcels, the envelope doesn’t look like much, it could be mistaken for simply holding an obnoxiously large christmas card, but Krem peels back the seal with care before tipping the brochure out into his hands.

Krem’s nose crinkles as he mouths the words on the magazine cover to himself. He shakes his head back and forth, flipping the brochure over as if looking at the back might uncover some hidden meaning and then smiles up at Dorian and chirps, “Thank you,” with surprising sincerity given that it’s glaringly obvious that the child hasn’t the first clue what to make of what he’s been given.

“You can pick any of the sports or classes from the booklet, and I’ll enroll you on it for the spring term so you can try it,” Dorian explains.

Krem’s eye go wide. “Any?”

Dorian nods. “That’s a book of the children’s classes. But you’re going to be getting swimming lessons at school anyway so there’s no need to pick those.”

Krem’s bobs up and down, a fully body nod, clutching the booklet close to his chest. “Do I have to choose now?”

Shaking his head Dorian says, “No, you have plenty of time to look through it and think about it. The classes don’t start until you’re back at school again. Now how about you put your new things in your room while we clean up all this paper.”

Krem does so, carrying each new object as if it is made of porcelain. He takes a long time about it, but when Dorian pokes his head around Krem’s bedroom door he sees that instead of merely stacking items on the floor each item has been carefully placed, the art materials on his desk, the books and brochure on his shelves, and the toy dinosaur on the bed with the other soft toys.

Once everything had been tidied, they regroup in the lounge to watch a variety of Christmas specials, but it’s barely mid-morning before it’s time to move to the kitchen and prepare for lunch.

Their grand lunch is prepared by Felix, who is by far the best cook of the three adults, bedecked in a personalised apron that he'd unwrapped earlier in the day, with the assistance of Krem who seemed delighted by how messy the process of cooking was. Dorian suspects he’s going to be spending a lot more time swatting Krem’s hands away from the stove and the kitchen knives in the near future.

The meal was good. Felix has sensibly stuck to mostly Tevinter dishes, as that was where is culinary knowledge lay, and given how unimpressed Krem had been with his school’s Fereldan-style Christmas lunch compared to his usual enthusiasm for school food, Dorian suspected that this had been a wise decision. For some reason Fereldan’s seemed to think that their food, bland and dense at the best of times, ought to get blander and stodgier in honour of special occasions.

By the time the main course is finished, there is little appetite at the table for the cake waiting to follow, so instead Dorian excuses Krem from the table to go and play with his new toys - although not without a firm warning to leave the chemistry set alone.

Mae makes coffee, commenting approvingly on Dorian’s coffee machine, one of the first thing he’d bought upon moving to Ferelden.

They sit and talk for a while, about work, about Tevinter politics - although Dorian quickly redirects when the conversation begins to skirt too close to Tevinter adoption law - until there is a suspicious thud from the corridor. When Dorian calls Krem’s name the boy responds that he is ‘just putting rubbish in the bin’. Only partially reassured, when he’s finished his coffee, Dorian calls the boy back through to the living room.

When Krem enters he is clutching a stuffed toy tightly, which he then thrusts out to proudly display.

It’s the dinosaur Krem received this morning. The wrapping paper from Mae’s scarf has been cut into a pair of slightly lopsided wings and taped to a thin strand of ribbon looped around it’s arms.

“I gave the dragon wings so he can look like all the other dragons now and nobody will call him a dinosaur on accident.”

 

 

 

There was a momentary pause before Felix says, “Oh cool. Good thinking buddy,” and leans over the table to offer Krem a fist bump, and then repeat the action against the dragon’s stuffed paw.

"What a lovely bit of recycling," Mae adds. "How clever of you."

“I just wanted to check what you were doing to be making rubbish," Dorian explains. "But well done. You can go back to playing now.”

“Okay,” Krem says, “Wait. No, yes, one minute-” he babbles, before darting off. Perplexed, Dorian waits and a few moments later Krem returns, holding out the brochure. “I’ve chosen.”

Dorian raises a brow. He’d assumed that at some point in the upcoming days they’d read through the options together, so Krem would understand what was available, and discuss which class Krem would be taking together.

Krem lets the brochure flop down onto the table. “This one,” he says, pointing to a picture of two slightly older children in white robes who appear to be fighting.

“That one?” Dorian asks, a little haltingly. “You’ve decided very quickly.”

“That one.” Krem’s answer is firm, his face a mix of excitement and determination, and Dorian is torn, remembering the bruising on Krem’s face after his day at the first school, the accusations that he’d been fighting – on one hand he’d promised that Krem could choose and Krem’s confidence might benefit from learning defence skills, but he can’t help but wonder if it is wise to encourage such violent pursuits.

“Are you cert-,” he’s cut off by a steely glare and raised eyebrow from Mae. Dorian knows what she’s thinking. Question the decision enough and Krem would start to doubt it. Dorian had promised to let Krem chose, and why wouldn’t the boy loathe having his decisions undermined with the same ferocity Dorian had as a child. Instead he says, “Well the centre is closed for the holiday, but as soon as they open back up we’ll make a booking so you can start.”

The wind is knocked out of him by the ferocity of Krem’s embrace but the beaming grin on the boy’s face as his skinny arms squeeze at Dorian’s middle works better than any sort of magic at soothing the knot of concern tangled in Dorian’s gut.

He got this one right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a three month wait this time!
> 
> And I must give credit to @ maliwanhellfires on tumblr for the martial arts lessons idea :)


	8. Chapter 8

Two weeks, it seemed, was the upper limit of how much time Krem could spend away from school. 

Felix and Mae had left just before the New Year, ostensibly in order to avoid overstaying their welcome and take a few days to rest in their respective homes, although Dorian suspected adult New Year’s parties were also a factor in the decision. His own New Year was a quiet occasion. Krem is too young to stay up much later than nine pm without becoming grouchy and he doesn't see the point in disrupting the boy's sleep just to countdown to midnight given that he'd shown no interest in the occasion. Dorian had turned in early, and laughed the next morning at the 2am voice-mail he'd received in which Sera berated him for being boring and old. He'd called her back and been met with a storm of hungover profanity that cut off with the whoosh and dull thud of something being thrown across a room. 

The days after that had been a challenge though. All of the excitement of Christmas seemed to have lowered Krem's boredom threshold. After a week of attention as and when he sought it from the three adults he now struggled to occupy himself, abandoning television shows mid-episode in favour of colouring and then leaving half-completed drawings abandoned about the place in favour of shuffling into Dorian's office asking to be played with. Dorian had done his best to strike the right balance between getting on with the work he needed to do and encouraging Krem to play alone without wanting to make Krem feel unwanted, but it was with frayed nerves and a sense of profound relief that he delivered Krem to Bull's classroom on the first morning of the new term. 

Given how much louder the room is than usual when he arrives, he suspects that he wasn't the only person who is relieved at the return to structure. Dorian doesn’t for one moment envy the task Bull faces in attempting to keep a whole class full of giddy children under control for the day. 

Krem doesn't hesitate to shuck in coat and change into his indoor shows, abandoning the garments haphazardly in the vicinity of his peg. For a moment, Dorian considers calling him back and insisting that Krem put his things away properly, but he discards the idea. Krem is a tidy child most of the time, and he's clearly so excited to see his friends again after two weeks away that Dorian can forgive this slip. They'd have time enough for tidying later. Still, Krem's things can hardly remain where he's left them. 

Dorian reaches down, picking up the coat and hanging it on the appropriate peg, before placing Krem's shoes on the shelf below it. They're getting a little scuffed, he notices, and the tread is wearing off the sole. He makes a mental note to plan a trip to buy new shoes for the boy, and probably new clothes too. Children grow so fast. 

"Aw... hey. Thanks for that." 

Dorian startles ever so slightly but he doesn't think it shows, as he turns to face Bull. "Well I hardly want his coat covered in shoe prints this afternoon," Dorian says. 

Bull laughs. "I'll get them to tidy this place up in a bit," he says gesturing around them, to where there are a dozen other coats, shoes, and bags scattered around the place. "But I figure they should run off some steam and catch up with each other first. Kids are always giddy after a break, especially Christmas." 

Truer words Dorian isn't sure he's ever heard. The classroom is always noisy when he drops off and collects Krem, but today it is raucous. 

"I feel I should warn you," Dorian says. "My friend Felix was visiting during the holidays and spent a great deal of time engaging with Krem on the subject of mathematics. He’s been asking bizarre questions about numbers for days, despite my attempts to distract him and I'm not sure you'll have any better luck." 

Bull grins. "Enthusiastic about learning? That's what I like to hear." 

'You will like it as lot less,' Dorian thinks mulishly, 'After four hours of him singing the Big Numbers Song! on repeat.' Outwardly, he smiles and says, "Well he certainly seems glad to be back," nodding over to where Krem is now immersed in a gaggle of children who all appear to be talking at once. 

Bull nods. "I've planned some time for them to all catch up once I get everybody registered, but I've got the gym booked for the morning. I'm guessing most of them have been kept inside all holiday since there hasn't even been any snow for them to play in, so they could all use few hours of running about." 

Dorian cannot contain his shudder at the thought of snow. Krem, raised in Fereldan, doesn't seem to feel the cold as much as Dorian does, but Dorian can't help but hope that the boy keeps up enough of an aversion that he wouldn't be asking to be taken out to play in all sorts of awful weather. The worst part of it all is that Dorian is grimly certain that if Krem asked, he'd more than likely agree. 

"Well best of luck with them," Dorian offers and Bull laughs. 

"Hey, they're alright. We're gonna have fun, you'll be missing out." 

Dorian hesitates and then concedes. "While I can't say I won't enjoy a reprise from having to keep up with his boundless energy, I'm quite sure my clients will be their own sorts of tiresome." 

Bull claps him on the shoulder. "See you this afternoon Dorian, if you're lucky they'll be too excited to nap so he should be all worn out by then." 

That would certainly be an excellent Christmas gift, Dorian thinks, as he returns to his car. 

His day flies by,  he's eked out time to answer emails over the break but there's far too much he can't do from home and he'll likely need the rest of the week to get completely on top of the backlog. There's no time for a lunch break, he gets by on coffee and leftover Christmas chocolate, and by three o'clock he's feeling queasy and exhausted. 

He doesn't get a chance to speak with Bull when he collects Krem, but the man offers him a thumbs up from across the room where's he's busy sorting out a mix up between two children who have apparently received identical new coats for Christmas. Dorian is confused by the gesture for the first five minutes of the drive home, until he glances at the backseat and sees that Krem is out like a light, his face squashed against the side of his car seat and his mouth hanging open. 

Fifteen minutes later when they arrive at the flat, Dorian is a little concerned that the nap will have re-energised Krem but those fears are allayed when Krem's first action upon entering is to go to his room, grab his dragon, and then return and flop down on the sofa. 

Dorian offers him a snack but Krem just looks at him sideways before asking for a chocolate bar, as if he hasn’t had more than enough sweet things during the holiday, so Dorian leaves him to his cartoons. He makes himself a cup of tea and sets himself to straightening the kitchen and cleaning up the breakfast things that were left untidied in the scramble to leave the house on time after weeks of not having to stick to their morning routine. Once the room is back to an acceptable level of cleanliness, he fetches a book and joins Krem on the sofa and then end up having a mugful of tinned soup each for dinner before Dorian puts Krem to bed early. 

The week passes in a blur as they readjust to their normal routine and for the first time Dorian understands what people mean when they claim to need a holiday to recover from their holidays. New worksheets are tacked up on the walls proudly documenting the break and the progress made since then. 

On Saturday morning Dorian calls the sports centre. It's easy enough to arrange what he wants, a six week taster course, no equipment purchase necessary until Krem decides if it's to be a long term interest or not. 

Krem will start on Tuesday. 

 

* 

 

* 

The organisation has a firm rule that children were to be deposited at the beginning of the session and collected at the end, with parental attendance strictly forbidden in order to prevent distraction and overcrowding the room. Krem is cheerful enough to be left, exhibiting none of the nerves he’d shown upon starting school, but Dorian spends the entire session waiting outside in the car, browsing the internet and counting the minutes dreading all of the ways he’s thought of that this could end badly. He’s quite sure sooner or later he’ll find himself sat in an emergency room with the boy, Dorian knows what children are like and Krem chases adventure with the confidence of somebody who has yet to experience the shock of falling from a treetop or headfirst off of a bicycle, but that doesn’t keep Dorian from wanting to ward off that day for as long as he can. 

He makes sure to exude calm as he returns, none of the other parents look at all uneasy and he knows that they’d likely think the extent of his worry ridiculous, but the tension doesn’t truly dissipate until he’s looking down upon Krem’s grinning face as the boy recounts the excitement of the past hour. 

Krem looks proud, looks confident, and it's a look that's nothing like the shows of shallow ego and bravado that Dorian has seen on his own face so many times. There's no taint of expectation weighing heavy over him, no tense rivalry with the other children, no need to be the best. Krem's satisfaction isn't from a job well done, it's because he's had fun; he's not sharing his exploits with Dorian out of a need for affirmation, he's just sharing the joy. 

This could be good for them. 


End file.
